Ghislaine taught me my letters from a colored alphabet in the _petit salon_, showing an angelic patience despite my yawns and whimperings. My memories of the alphabet are drolly intermingled with various objects in the _petit salon_ that from the earliest age charmed my attention. One of these was an immense tortoise-shell mounted on a tripod, and another a vast Chinese umbrella of pale yellow satin, with silk and crystal fringes, that, suspended from the ceiling in front of the long windows that gave on the garden, was filled with flowers. This had been an ingenious contrivance of my father's, and _bonne maman_ found it as bewitching as I did, never failing to say to visitors, after the first greetings had passed: "Do you see my Chinese umbrella?" When I had learned seven letters _bonne maman_ gave me four red _dragées de baptême_,--the sugar-almonds that are scattered at christenings,--and promised me as many more for each new attainment. Thus sustained, I was able to master the alphabet and to pass by slow degrees to Æsop's Fables, with pictures and a yellow cover. It was later on that Ghislaine began to coach me in all the _départements_ of France and their capitals. _Maman_ lent a hand in this and instituted a method that was singularly successful. I still laugh in remembering how at any time of the day, before guests, at meals, or while we were at play, she might suddenly call out to us, "Gers!" for instance, to which one must instantly reply "Auch." Or else it was "Gironde!" and the reply, "Bordeaux," must follow without hesitation. If I replied correctly, I was given fifty centimes; if incorrectly, I received a slap. I used to dream of the _départements_ and their capitals at night. One rainy day I was playing in the _petit salon_, lying at full length on the floor and making a castle of blocks, when _maman_, coming suddenly out of the library, a great tray of books in her arms, cried out to me as she came, walking very quickly, "Gare!" ["Take care!"] Without moving and without looking up, I replied obediently, "Nîmes" (the capital of Gard), and an avalanche of books descended upon me, poor _maman_ and her tray coming down with a dreadful clatter. _Maman_ was not hurt, but very much afraid that I was. When she found us both, except for a few bruises, safe and sound, she went off into a peal of laughter, and I followed suit, much relieved; for I had imagined for one moment that I had made a mistake in my answer, and I found the punishment too severe. "You are sure I have not hurt you, darling?" said _maman_, kissing me; and I replied with truth: "No, _Maman_; but I should have preferred the _gifle_." On that day, instead of fifty centimes, I received a franc for consolation. It was not until my brother's tutor came to us, when I was eight or nine years old, that I ever had any teacher but Ghislaine.